


On the Table

by WendyNerd



Series: Switch [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Collars, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Light Bondage, Maledom/Femsub, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Spanking, promptfill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 19:52:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4275891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WendyNerd/pseuds/WendyNerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a prompt asking me to continue the Good Girl universe</p><p>"A quarter hour from now, you will be lying face up, legs spread, on the table in my solar, dressed only in your shift and stockings, touching yourself through the fabric."</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Table

In the candlelight, the necklace in Sansa’s palm glittered and glowed. It was a wreath of ruby-studded dragons with a crown clasp. It was easily the most ostentatious thing he’d ever bought. She looked up at him in wonder. “Why..? It’s not even my name day.”

“Because I love you, because you’re such a good girl, and good girls deserve to have beautiful things.”

Her eyes flashed then, in that way that Jon had come to know so well. “Shall I wear it when I’m your good girl, then?”

“Whenever you wish to be, yes.” It was a fine idea.

Sansa smirked. “Yes, whenever I wish for my king to take his good girl, I will wear this.”

She teased him sometimes, wearing it in public. The first time she did it, he’d sputtered, asking desperate questions and protesting until she explained her idea to him about being his good girl in public. When she was wearing the necklace, he was allowed to give her discreet orders to retire to some private area and prepare herself as directed. She did not intend for him to display them in public.

One day after a court session, during which he’d been thoroughly distracted, he came up behind her and growled in her ear. “A quarter hour from now, you will be lying face up, legs spread, on the table in my solar, dressed only in your shift and stockings, touching yourself through the fabric, but not peaking.”

She shivered, her blue eyes flashing. “Yes, My King.”

Jon gave her backside a discreet little pinch. “Good girl.”

By some miracle, when he entered his solar, he managed not to faint at the vision before him. Sansa writhed atop his octagonal dining table, back arched, her nipples pebbling under the tissue-thin white linen, hands between her spread thighs, knees bent, skirts bunched up, skin flushed pink, lower lip between her teeth, eyes shut tight, and beads of perspiration on her brow. So consumed was she in pleasuring herself that she didn’t even notice when Jon entered at first.

“Remember what I said, no peaking,” he told her, walking over to a nearby wash basin. Sansa insisted he always be clean when they coupled, and she especially insisted on seeing him wash his hands at the start of every encounter.

Her eyes popped open, and her hand slowed. “Your Grace, of course! Did I do well?”

Jon swallowed, then dried his hands with a cloth. “Very, very well. There’s only one thing.”

Her mouth fell open in slight dismay, and Jon chuckled. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

The king strode over to stand near her head. She looked up at him with innocent blue eyes as he stroked her face affectionately. _Is there anything in this world more beautiful than that face?_ Jon had given up faith in any gods during the wars. But sights like this were almost enough to make him believe again. _How else could someone so perfect exist?_ Her normally milky skin was flushed all over. This close, he could see the darkened circles of her nipples behind the fabric. He could also see the damp fabric between her legs where she was touching herself, clinging to her core. Through it, the auburn curls between her legs was visible. The damp spot was considerable, clinging not only to the apex of her thighs, but an inch or two of her inner thighs as well. Jon groaned, smelling it.

When he’d first married her, he thought there could be no sweeter scent than that of her fresh, lemony perfume. Then he got to smell the scent of her arousal, the sweat that formed on her skin, the juices of her cunny.

Women, he’d learned long ago, had musk as much as men did, though they were pressured to hide theirs. Trysts with Val and Ygritte (especially Ygritte) had made him very aware of this. No one ever spoke of it in songs or poems, or even in the filthy armory stories he heard other men tell. If smell was brought up, it was always about perfume. The taste of a woman came up even less. Sometimes mouths were spoken of as “sweet”, but the taste of their skin, their cunts, of them, was rarely ever mentioned.

Jon found each other the three women he’d been with were different to varying degrees in their smells and tastes, with just a few minor elements. Sansa was definitely closer to the “sweetness” always described. When he’d tasted Val, he always detected a hint of leather. With both Ygritte and Val, there was fresh earth. And their taste always had a salty, sweaty bit to it. Meanwhile, Sansa’s sweat was always a bit lighter (but then, she didn’t engage in as much extrenuous physical activity, and she washed more often), the taste of her skin a little more complicated thanks to her frequent use of bath oil, creams, and scented soap. And her cunt…

Cunts, despite what some of the stories and songs claimed, weren’t really, truly “sweet”. They didn’t taste like strawberries or cherries or any of the typical fruits used. Even Sansa’s flesh and fluids were more savory than anything. Jon loved the taste of her, more than anyone he’d ever had. Even the thought of it made his mouth water.

It was partly why he loved having her touch herself through fabric. Sometimes it was her shift, sometimes her smallclothes, sometimes a handkerchief or sheet. He liked being able to smell her on something long after they’d finished. He liked watching her fluids darken the cloth.

Seeing so much evidence of her essence was too much. He pulled her hand from between her legs and brought it to his mouth to suck at the tips of her wet fingers. It was perfect. He closed his eyes for a second, savoring the taste, letting a groan escape him. But he couldn’t lose himself, so he tore himself back to his original plan, putting his hands on her shoulders.

“Sit up,” he bid her, and she did, letting him pressed her back to his stomach, ribs, and chest. “I’m going to touch your hair, Sweetling. I won’t pull it, not on purpose. Not now.”

Jon adored her hair, though Sansa had particular rules about it. He had to tell her before he touched it, and specify whether he meant to pull it or not. And he could never, ever pull it too hard. He once made the mistake of yanking on it as he took it from behind, causing his wife to scream and begin to cry.

As of now, she wore it dressed in a regal style appropriate for a queen: pulled back with small braids along her temple, piled into a silver net. Jon didn’t mind some aspects of this, such as how it left the full arch of her lovely neck exposed, but he wanted that hair tumbling down. It was such a lovely red— darker than Ygritte’s had been, but lighter than her mother’s and the Red Woman’s. It was always soft, clean, glossy, with a beautiful shine. Running his fingers through it always gave him intense pleasure.

He unclipped the net, unfastened the braids, removed the pins. It tumbled loose, creating a bloodlike curtain that teased her shoulders, arms, neck, and chest. Jon could not resist combing his fingers through it a few times, nor could he stop himself from leaning down, pressing his face to it, and inhaling.

“Perfect,” he murmured, combing it through again. He kissed behind her left ear, then her neck, then her cheek. Sansa panted and shuddered against his mouth.

“My king…” She moaned, as he nibbled at that place, just under her necklace, where her neck met her shoulders.  His lips made contact with the coo stones, a sharp contrast to the warmth of her skin.

“You know, I think you’re in a rather passionate state, Sweetling.” Jons hands drifted down  to her breasts and pinched her nipples through the linen of her shift. “These are nearly as hard as I am.”

“Are… Are you pleased, Your Grace?” She asked.

“I shall be. I am very happy with you, though, Sansa. You’ve been a very good girl. And good girls get rewarded.”

“Oh, yes!” She sounded so excited, so thrilled. “What is my reward? May I have it now?”

“You may.” Jon grabbed one of his dining chairs and sat down. “On your knees, shift off.”

She squealed and did as told, smiling and facing him as she pulled her shift over her head. Jon gave her inner thigh a little smack, swallowing at the sight of her bare mound. “Knees apart, come on, you know better than that.”

Then he parted her folds. The pink of her was exposed, including her pretty little nub. He pinched it, causing a squeek.

“Your Grace…” Sansa moaned, eyes shut tight, “I won’t be able to hold back long if you… If you do that.”

“Sansa, I told you, you’re only to peak if I say so. Surely you have enough self control to obey?”

She pouted “I don’t knooooww…”

“Well, you’ll need to learn to control yourself better,” he admonished her,  “You don’t want to become the sort of slutty girl who peaks without permission, do you? Good girls don’t disobey.”

“I’m trying.”

Jon sighed. “Well then, you may peak when my mouth is on you, but you shall be punished for your impatience.”

“Yes, my king.”

“Turn around. Hands behind you”

She did, facing away from him. Jon took one of her silk hair ribbons and bound her wrists. Upon them being bound, he stood and pushed her head down.

“I’m going to bring you to peak, now. But not like a good girl. After you’ve come, I’m going to spank you. Six times. Then you will get on the ground, kneel before your king, and you will undo my breeches and pleasure me with your mouth for a while. Then I’m going to bend you over this table and fuck you proper. I will not be gentle. Maybe that will teach you how to be a good girl again.”

Sansa liked having things told to her. She liked the warning. She liked the anticipation.

“Yes. Thank you, my king. I wanna be a good girl”

It didn’t take long for her to find her release, and he drank it up greedily. It actually took a lot of willpower to pull his face away instead of just making her peak again and again until she was a puddle on the table.

But his regret over this lessened at the sight of her milky backside sticking up in the air, her red cunt, slick and shiny, fluids running down her spread thighs.

“Would you say it’s time to be punished, Sansa?”

She gasped. “Yes, my king! Please, hit me!”

The rule was, he never raised a hand to her until she begged.

The first strike came down. Her left cheek went pink. Jon loved the sight of it, but he waited until she thanked him and begged for another before he gave her right cheek a red handprint to match. He waited each time for her to thank him and beg for another, as he always did. Six strikes was always the limit, and he never hit her too hard. But by the time he was done, her backside was a deep pink.

Sansa moaned several thank yous. Jon, unable to stop himself, bent over and peppered kisses all over her reddened flesh. “Good girl, you’re such a good girl. Such a strong, sweet, brave, good girl. Your king loves you, you know that, right?”

“Yes! And I love my king!” She moaned.

 _Gods._ That was almost better than getting his cock sucked. It took a while for her to be willing to say such a thing to him. Every time she did, it felt like the first time.

Jon pulled her up, flipped her around, and clutched her to him gently, kissing her cheeks and hair. He loved holding her. “I love you, Sweetling. I love you so much. Are you alright?”

She nodded, smiling a bit, her face flushed. She rested her head against his shoulder for a little while, sighing. Jon moaned. He was so hard he felt ready to faint, and she was pressed against him. Eventually, her breathing slowed, and she began to squirm against him, grinding her hips against the bulge there.

“Your Grace,” she whined, “You said you’d let me have you. In my mouth and in my cunny. May I have it now? I want to serve my king.”

Jon knew he couldn’t last long. He pulled away and unlaced freed his cock himself, now too far gone to wait for her to unlace him with her mouth. She gasped and grinned when she saw his cock, hard and darkened, burst out.

The king made a decision. He paused to unbind his wife’s wrists, then helped her to the ground. “Suck me as you wish,” he told her, sitting down again. “Touch yourself as you do..”

Sansa smiled, sliding a hand between her legs. “Thank you, my king.”

“May I pull your hair as you do, though?” He asked. She nodded.

“Then get to it.”

She smiled, licked her lips, and leaned forward. He almost spent in her mouth immediately, the second her lips encircled the tip. He bit his own tongue and tried to think of things like Janos Slynt’s severed head and mucking the stables at Castle Black to regain control of himself. He cursed. No matter what, he had to admit before long that he couldn’t last much longer. Part of the problem was that Sansa was a perfectionist. When she’d first started doing this, she’d insisted on careful instruction in all the things he liked. She’d perfected her technique too much.

“No more,” he grunted, pulling her head away. She got to her feet, her legs a bit unsteady,  but still went to the table eagerly enough, winking and smiling at him lustily as she bent over.

“I’m ready, Your Grace. Please… Fuck me. You needn’t be gentle.”

She wiggled her hips. Jon groaned. “Keep touching yourself.”

Sansa moaned, and did as ordered. “Please, my king… I need you inside me. Now! Please!”

Two seconds later, she got her wish. Jon sheathed himself in her tight, slick heat and moaned. “Good girl. Good girl.”

He tried to keep his thrusts measured at first, but ultimately failed. One hand went to her breast, the other between her legs. He grunted words of encouragement and affection, begging her to peak.

“I need you, my king. Give me your seed,” she begged, “Please.”

Unable to take it any longer, he burst within her. This, apparently, was enough, for she soon followed him.

A few minute passed of him just gasping, collapsed against her, before he was able to collect himself. The king was gone, spent within his good girl. He was back, so was Sansa, his lady wife. His lady wife whom he had to see to.

Jon straightened up, turned her around, and gathered her in his arms, cradling her. Sansa clung to him, nuzzling his neck as he carried her to the bedchamber. Upon placing her on the bed, he went to fetch some balm for her backside.

“Do you need a bath?” He asked her as he rubbed down her reddened skin. She shook her head.

“No, just some hot water will be fine. Could you get me some hot tea and some water? And my robe?”

Jon smiled and nodded, pausing to give her a fond kiss and a squeeze. Then he threw on his robe, went to gather up their clothing from the other room, then sent for the servants to fetch his wife all she asked for, plus some cake for good measure. He helped Sansa into her white silk robe, then held her a bit more before the hot water, tea and food arrived. He even helped her scrub herself down.

“How was it?” He asked as he washed her back. Sansa grinned, running a wash rag between her legs.

“Oh, it was lovely. I liked being on the table, all exposed.” She sighed, then shot him a playful smile. “You may have noticed, but I haven’t taken my necklace off yet. Perhaps my king would like to have his good girl for dessert tonight?”

Jon groaned, already able to picture it. You’re too much. You’re too bloody perfect. “I love you.”

He swooped her up again, peppering her with kisses and leading her to the bed. They cuddled for a while, and when he felt the stirring in his loins again, he made love to her face to face, gently, with no titles.  Afterwards, he poured her some more tea, and fetched a book of Myrish love stories from her shelf for her, settling in beside her and listening to her read aloud.

**Author's Note:**

> Next one will probably star the queen and her bastard boy.


End file.
